The Road
by Edna Pests
Summary: The road goes ever on and on..." And I don't know where I'm going with this one. So far, it's about a normal teenager from earth meeting Jonathan Teatime. I just started typing, and this came out. I'll probably delete it soon.
1. Normal Day?

Jerilyn opened the door out into the chilly, Autumn filled streets. The lighting was dim, and blue. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair was in a pony tail, and her rich, brown eyes scanned the street. She wore jeans, tennis shoes, a white, long-sleeved shirt, and a no-sleeved jean jacket. The street was empty. She got out her bike, and started to ride down it, chilly air biting at her face. The silence was calming and eerie at the same time.

Jerilyn was fifteen years old, and an actress. Not a really good one, but she was improving. Or she'd thought she had until she landed the part of Servant Number Two in Romeo and Juliet. The smallest part in the play, having only one and a half lines. It really bugged her, because acting was the only thing she thought she had been good at, and if she didn't have it then what was she? Just an average person. She stopped when she came to the train tracks. There were no more houses nearby. To the left was a small wood, and to the right was just rocks, grass, dead leaves, and track. The atmosphere here was so good she wanted to just sit, and think. Now that she was here, what to think about? There was that new book that had arrived-

"Hello." said a child-like voice.

Jerilyn spun around to see who had spoken, while a quote ran through her head. _Startled at the stillness broken, by reply so aptly spoken..._

There stood a man, not that much taller than herself. He looked young, in his mid-twenties. He wore a long, black coat, had blonde curls, and might've been good-looking if it weren't for his eyes. One was inky black, and the other had a tiny pin-prick of a pupil in an ocean of white.

Jerilyn smiled, though an icy fear had bitten into her heart. "Mr...Teh-ah-tim-eh?"

He tilted his head to the side, making him look more demented, and said in a voice tinged with bewilderment, "You got it right."

She smiled again. "Yup. ...I'm going to be dead in a few minutes, aren't I?"

"Most likely. You seem to have me at a disadvantage. How is that?"

"Well, you see, here you're a story character. Written by a dude called Terry Pratchett."

Teatime nodded slowly, and said in a gentle voice, "Fascinating. And if you believe me to be fictional, why do you believe I am really me?"

"Because...it would be very cool. If you existed, I mean. So why should I add further trouble to your existence with disbelief?"

Teatime nodded. "That seems to be in order. Except, I am about to kill you, so wouldn't you prefer I were...not here, so to speak?"

"Well, we all have to die eventually." said Jerilyn, shrugging. "I'd rather it be by some interesting way rather than boring, and death by an Assassin from Discworld is _definitely_ interesting." She wasn't nearly as calm as she pretended to be. Her whole body was tense with nervous energy, and she was letting that energy out in the conversation. Besides, what was the point of running and screaming? Teatime would catch her anyway.


	2. Guide

"Just wondering," said Jerilyn, "why, exactly, are you going to kill me? Am I in your way, or did someone want me inhumed?"

"You are in my way." Teatime confirmed. "That contraption you were riding on. It would be useful for me to obtain."

"Then why don't you just take it from me, and be on your way?"

He looked appalled at the thought. "Then I would be a _Thief_." He said the word as if it left a nasty taste in his mouth.

"How about I give it to you?"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because...I am a generous soul."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's under question. But I'm not so sure I want to let you slip away now. You know who I am, and if this world was alerted to just exactly what I am that would be very...inconvenient."

"Well, get on with it, then." She spread out her arm in an open gesture, preparing for the knife that would soon lodge itself in her heart.

He tilted his head again, and said, "A guide would be useful."

She felt herself tense.

"Yes," she said, "I suppose one would be. However, I don't see any hanging around here."

"I need to know how this world works, to avoid unwanted attention. You will help me with this, or, and I say this with considerable regret, I'll have to kill you."

"You say it with no regret. And we both know you're going to murder me. Lets not pretend I can do anything to change that."

Teatime's black eye grew darker.

"Assassins do not murder." he said, sharply. "We inhume. And since you seem incapable of thinking for yourself, allow me to do it for you." He said the next words as if talking to someone who was very dumb, or who spoke a different language. "If you help me, you will have more chances to escape."

"Yeah. Right." Jerilyn rolled her eyes, feigning a complacency she didn't feel. "Like I could ever escape you."

He sighed. "Very well. Suit yourself." From seemingly nowhere, a knife appeared in his hand, and he started towards her.

"Alright, alright!" Jerilyn said, backing up and raising her hands. "What do you want me to do?"


	3. Where to?

The first order of business was to get Teatime some more natural looking clothes. They went back to Jerilyn's house, and the Assassin waited outside, because she didn't want him anywhere near her family. Before she opened the door, she cast a glance over her shoulder. Jonathan was nowhere in sight, of course.

Her mother looked up as she came in. "Oh, hi, dear. Did you have a good bike ride?"

Jerilyn hesitated. Would now be the time to hint to her mother that she was in danger? But if Teatime was listening, and got even the slightest suspicion that her mother knew something, would he come in here and slaughter her whole family, albeit with elegance? Most likely. Jerilyn sighed, and said, "Yeah, it was fine. I'm going to go back out in a few minutes. Just stopping in to get Sean's copy of 'The Hobbit'."

"Well, be careful with it. You know how your brother loves that book. And when you get back, I want you to fold some clothes."

Jerilyn groaned. Hey, at least that was one good thing about being kidnapped by a homicidal lunatic. No more chores. Slipping into Sean's room, she searched through his closet. Teatime looked the same size as her brother. She was almost tempted to bring out the pajamas with rabbits on them, but she settled with white sneakers, black jeans, and a black, long-sleeved shirt. She also grabbed a few things for herself, like clothes, toiletries, money, and a can of mace. To her dismay, they had no poker, so she had to settle for a crowbar. She managed to cram all these things into her school backpack, and out she went. Took a few steps out onto the grass. Teatime was still nowhere in sight. She felt a hope bloom in her in spite of herself. _Maybe he left. Maybe he decided to get a better guide-_

"You took a while." said a voice, close to her ear. "In future, you must be more punctual."

Jerilyn jumped in surprise, then rolled her eyes. That was just _so_ cliche creepy villain. She turned around.

"You make an interesting point." she said. "I'm slow. I'll just slow you down, so I won't be very useful-"

Ignoring her words, he grabbed the shoes and the black clothes from her, and looked for a dark corner. "Why don't you arrange some means of transportation for us. I won't take more than a minute."

_Why don't I? Because that transportation will be taking me away from my loved ones, and any safety I have_, she thought, but she said, "Fine. I'll get us a taxi."

She went through the backdoor this time to call one. While waiting for it to arrive, she sat on the porch steps, brooding over her fate. The yellow car arrived, luckily, before she could get too deep into these thoughts.

Teatime, now dressed in Sean's clothes, looked at the car with mild interest. "What exactly is that contraption?"

"It's...well, it's...it performs the same service as a horse and carriage." she said. "Except you don't have to deal with fleas and huge piles of dung. Where are we going, exactly?"

"First, we must head somewhere where I can see the latest news. After that..." he paused in thought. "What is the greatest waterfall in this world?"

"I don't know. Niagra Falls, I suppose."

"Then we must start heading there."

"But that's whole states away!"

"Your point?"

"...Nothing. Niagra Falls it is."


	4. Resurrected

"Where to?" asked the taxi driver, looking at Teatime, who was the adult, after all. The Assassin, however, ignored him.

"Shaw and DiCandeloro. The one on Admiral Street." said Jerilyn. It was a bookshop, but usually kept a copy of the latest newspaper. She could look up some books on Geography there too. There was a window of glass that separated the driver's compartment from the customer's. Jerilyn closed it, and looked at her silent companion, who was staring out the window.

"How did you get here?" she asked him. "And I thought Susan killed you."

"Don't make yourself a nuisance by asking too many questions." he said, without looking at her.

"I just thought that if I knew how you got here I might be more help in getting you back. I assume that's what you're trying to do."

"Are you suggesting you could do more with the information I know than I could?"

"Yup. Look, I'm not saying I'm smarter. You've already admitted I know more about this world than you do, and there might be something else I know that can help."

"Your motives aren't so considerate." he said. "You're just curious."

"Well..._duh._ But my point is still valid."

"So it is. But unless you understand the secrets of the afterlife I doubt you will understand my adventures."

"Try me."

Jonathan sat back in his seat, and Jerilyn had a hunch he was very uncomfortable with the subject, but that couldn't be right. Teatime was always smooth. "She _did_ kill me. I hadn't expected that she would throw the poker through her own grandfather, nor that it wouldn't get caught in his bones. They cheated, and I _will_ repay them for that. I don't remember much of what happened next. Someone said my name correctly, and my old scrying glass was gone. Then there was nothing, absolutely nothing. No sensation, no thought, no sight, ...etcetera. Nothing except this voice..._Damn, his piece has fallen off the board._

_Hurry, catch it, before it-_

And I was whole again, freezing cold air whistling past as I fell off the edge of the Disc...and I landed here."

"...Your piece." said Jerilyn. "Do you think it has to do with the Disc's god's game?"

"Your guess, I hate to admit, is as good as mine."

"But why do you want to go to a waterfall?"

Teatime stared at her as if she had just begun to drool. "Can't you think of my reason yourself?"

"Well...you want to get back, obviously. You can't fly, or hire yourself a rocket, so are you trying to recreate the events that brought you here? You can't fall off the edge of this world, because there isn't one, but the edge of the Disc is like an endless waterfall...I sorta get it, but not really. What makes you think it will work?"

"To work magic you must think in magic's mind set. It has its own way of logic that is not logical at all, but merely sounds good. I experience various forms of training to get where I am today, and sorcery is simply one of them."


	5. Wimpy Hogswatch

"What is that?"

Teatime spoke with such disgust in his voice that for a moment Jerilyn expected to turn and see an open trench. What she saw was much worst. A woman, working near a shop window, in a pink elf's costume. Minuscule bells dangled off the end of her skirts, lace sprouted from each sleeve, and a hat made out of a pillowcase.

"That is a shop who has overdone the commercialism factor just a bit." said Jerilyn.

"Commercialism of what?"

"Of Christmas."

He looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

"It's a lot like Hogswatch," she said, "except the Hogfather is called Santa Claus, and there are reindeer instead of boars."

"Reindeer? But those animals are so...peaceful. They wouldn't instill the right atmosphere!"

"And what atmosphere is that?"

If it wasn't impossible, she would say the Assassin looked embarrassed. "Well, you should know. That combination of fear and awe."

"Awww," said Jerilyn, condescendingly. "standing up for our ickle holiday, are we?"

"I can still kill you."

She straightened up. "Sorry. Well, we only get awe and fuzzywarmth here."

"Fuzzywarmth?"

"Er, love."

"You've turned Hogswatch into a calm solar festival for little kids."

"Hey, I didn't do it! Blame Disney." She cast a sideways glance at him. "And I thought you didn't care about the holiday."

"It doesn't hold any particular fascination for me, but even so, I can see that this world has hopelessly mangled it."

Jerilyn looked out the window. It had begun to snow, ironically. "Well, not as badly as you would've if you had succeeded in your little mission."

"I do not consider that mission to be a failure, as I have not closed it yet."

"You mean, when you get back you're just gonna do the whole thing over again?"

"Except with much more el-"

"Don't say the word." Jerilyn grumbled. "I'm getting bored of it now."


	6. Service

"There you are, miss." said the driver. "Shaw and DiCandeloro."

In the few seconds it took her to pay the driver, Teatime had already gotten soundlessly out, and into the shop. He was gazing around at everything with vague interest, and when she caught up with him he pointed once to the lights on the ceiling, and shot her a questioning glance.

"Well, it's a more advanced form of lamp, obviously." she said. "Powered by harnessed lightning."

He gave her a look of a scientist who had just been told that magic runs the universe.

She grabbed the latest newspaper, and pushed it into his hands.

"I have some books I need to look at." she said. "Can you refrain from inhuming anyone while I flip through them?"

"I'll try." he said, in the tone of a little boy promising to finish his homework.

She took ten or fifteen minutes looking through map books, and taking notes. Eventually, like the American she was, she went to one of the store's computers, and looked it up on MapQuest. Stuffing the printed instructions into her backpack, she looked for Teatime. And looked...and looked....A sense of dread was growing in her chest, as she turned down another book aisle, and still no sight of him. That same sense told her to look in the back, where the garbage was. She arrived just in time to see the Assassin closing a dumpster lid over a uniformed body.

"_Jonathan!_" she hissed.

"What?" he said, trying to look innocent. "I'm only performing a service."

In the corner was a dirty, fat, dumpy looking man.

"Thanks, man." he said. "How can I repay you?"

"A standard fee would be appropriate." said Teatime.

"You can can't do your job _here_!" Jerilyn shrilled.

"Come on, dude," the man moaned. "I have kids to feed!"

"And just imagine how they'll feel if their father is found as an accomplice to murder." the Assassin smiled.

Grumbling, the man took several crumpled bills out of his pocket, and handed them over.

"Jerilyn," Teatime said, handing them to her. "is that a lot?"

She looked them over. All fifties and twenties. "Yeah."

"Then you may go."

The dirty man ran, as if he was expecting the police officer to come back to life, and give chase.

_Author's Note: If any of you reader's haven't reviewed yet, just know that I might update more often if I knew more people were interested. _


	7. Paradigm

Jerilyn was walking across the crunchy dead grass, in the cold, at midnight, in the wilderness. Not something she had ever envisioned herself doing. Teatime had said she'd needed the exercise.

"If you're to continue to accompany me you must learn endurance." he had said.

"Bite me." she'd replied.

"Hold still." he'd directed her.

There had been a pause.

"I'd rather walk." she'd said.

So here she was, walking against the wind, her arms tucked into her denim vest, her breath visible in the chill. Teatime, of course, was striding upright, seemingly impervious to the elements. _The arrogant, blond ba-_

"You know, it's going to be difficult, crossing states, and stuff." she said, trying to speak through chattering teeth. "You need certain things, like passports. People ask questions."

"They don't tend to after they've met me."

"Jonathan, you can't solve every problem by stabbing people!"

"People have told me so, but they never get around to proving it."

"Well, it's not just going to be random people asking the questions. It'll be important people, like police men."

He gave her a look with his good eye, as if to remind her how easily the last policeman had been delt with. Jerilyn sighed. It was pointless debating with this man. Now she knew if he didn't kill her himself, she'd probably die in a crossfire between Teatime and S.W.A.T.


	8. Neat

Waking up was nice. She lay on a blanket, under a tree that still had a few leaves, and with buttery, warm sunlight pouring around. For a moment she thought she was on a camping trip with her family, and that Jonathan's appearance had just been a nightmare. Her worst.

Of course, Teatime couldn't let this happy moment last for long.

Her view of the sky was obstructed by a golden-haired head. Jerilyn rolled over, groaning, "Go away."

Luckily, the Assassin was in a good mood, so these words didn't cost her her life. Teatime leaned over Jerilyn, and she buried her head in the blanket.

"You awake yet?" he asked.

"Well, obviously." came the muffled reply.

"What would you say if I asked for your assistance with an inhumation?"

"I'd say, do I have a choice?"

"To which I'd reply, none whatsoever." He smiled, and sat up. She sat up too, more abruptly.

"_Are you serious?_" she asked.

"I'm always serious. Except when I'm joking."

"Can't you do it by yourself?"

"Of course. But it would be less el-" He stopped at her glare. "-less neat." he amended. "And more people would die." He added that last bit as an afterthought. She still looked uncooperative, so he also said, "Including you and your family."

"I guessed as much. What's the job?"

He raised an eyebrow. Jerilyn raised a hand to her mouth in mock disgust at her words.

"What service is there to perform?" she corrected herself. "And how'd you get hired for it?"

"I went into town while you were asleep."

She hissed through her teeth, and covered her face with her hand.

"Now, don't beat yourself up over it." he said. "If you had run off during the night, I just would've gone back and slaughtered all your loved ones."

"Well, that's a comfort." she said, dryly.

"Do you know Jon Lupin?"

She shook her head, slowly. "I don't think so, but the name sounds familiar."

"Most popular actor from Lewis Theatre, also the inheritor of two million dollars-"

"Oh, you're familiar with our money system now?"

"Oh, yes. By they way, you let the cop-killer get away with paying to little."

"_You_ killed the cop."

"Technically, but the fault truly lies with the payer."

"So _that's_ how Assassins sleep at night."

"We don't sleep."

"...Oh." She peered into Teatime's eyes, to see if he was pulling her leg, but they were unreadable, of course. "So, why does someone want him dead?"

"You don't ask many questions in my profession. But I assume that she's next in line for the fortune. She's his sister."

"That's terrible!"

"It's not as terrible as you becoming an accomplice to murder."

"Do you _enjoy_ torturing me?"

"Yes."

"Well, what am I suppose to do?"

"There are cameras, and alarms all over the house. There are also two maids, and a cook, but no bodyguards."

"Really? Well, that sounds..."

"Stupid."

"I was gonna say confident, or something like that."

"No, it's stupid." Teatime said, simply. "He doesn't employ them to keep his privacy uninvaded."

"And the two maids, and cook?"

"They've been working for his family all his life."

"What am I supposed to do?" she repeated.

"Lupin is a 'softie'. Go to his house, play the part of the injured and lost teenager, and lead him to the spot where you last saw your parents."

"Where you'll be waiting."

"Duh." he said, childishly. Well, he _was_ Teatime.

"But I'm not injur-" Her eyes widened, and she scrambled backward. "No, no, no! Don't you touch me!"

"Broken bones mend, Jerilyn."

She got up, and started running. She'd hardly gone three steps when a hand caught her elbow. His other hand helped her regain her balance after the abrupt stop.

"_Why do I have to be injured?!_" she yelled, and spun around the face him. Jonathan was _almost_ surprised. He'd seen her annoyed and snarky, but never furious.

"Ensures his sympathy for your plight."

"Why don't _you_ play the broken-limbed, lost person, and _I _knife the guy?!"

"...Do I even need to explain this to you?"

"If he sees me with a broken arm he's not gonna go looking for my parents! He's gonna call an ambulance, and then start to ask questions I can't answer!"

"What's an ambulance?"

She rolled her eyes.

_To be continued..._


	9. Naive

So, once she explained to Teatime about the faster medical assistance on this planet, he agreed that a broken arm would be hazardous to the plan. He took her vest, backpack, and had her put her hair down, in an effort to make her look as pathetic as possible. They waited till nightfall, then started moving. He left her when he saw a promising dark alley. As she made her way to the mansion, she thought. She couldn't think freely in Teatime's presence. Some part of her was convinced that he would _hear._

She considered calling the police, but not for long. Just imagine that phone call. _Yes, I've been kidnapped by an Assassin, an Assassin with a capital A, mind you. He fell to Earth from a planet called Discworld. That's a fictional world, made by Terry Pratchett, but apparently it's real. Anyway, he wants me to take him to Niagra Falls, so he can go back home, and assassinate his version of Santa Claus, and then he'll probably go after Death, and his granddaughter-_ You get the idea. They'd write her off as a prank-caller, or insane.

She found the building easily. He had given her very specific instructions on how to get there. Jon himself answered the door. The actor looked like he was in his early twenties. He had unruly, brown hair, and a handsome, naive face. She instantly felt empathetic towards him.

It wasn't hard to act like a hysterical, lost teenager. She just took all the emotion she felt about her current situation, and finally allowed it to show. She was soon in tears.

"There, there," Jon said, in the alarmed tone a man has when he's suddenly confronted with an emotional female. "Come inside. We can get you something warm to drink, and call your parents."

Curse that homicidal, blonde maniac! Couldn't he have given her a more complete cover story?

"They- they don't have cell-phones." she invented. "They haven't even picked a hotel yet!"

"Well, we could always call the paper, and put in an ad with your description."

"But...I remember where I saw them last. I was just afraid to go there by myself."

"Let me take her, sir." Jerilyn saw a grey-haired man in the hallway behind Jon.

"This is supposed to be your day off, Jeeves." said Jon. "Jerilyn, if I took you in my car, do you think you could point out the way?"

She stared at him, open-mouthed. This man was unbelievably trusting. Or unbelievably stupid. Well, in this world, they were the same thing. If he didn't die by Teatime's hand, he'd probably get done in later, by a mugger posing as a homeless person. The thought didn't cheer her up.

"I think so, yeah." she said.


	10. Idiocy All Around

_Author's Note: I'd like to know if any of you readers would object greatly to me changing the title of this story to 'Teatime With Jerry'._

The fact was that no one would blame her for Jon's death. She'd be considered the victim just as much as he. I mean, come on! An Assassin was threatening to slaughter her family! What choice did she have?

She remembered watching 'The Dark Knight' with Sean. There'd been that female detective who'd helped the Joker to save her grandmother, or something. Sean had insisted that that detective was just as guilty as the Joker himself.

I shifted in my seat. It was one of those sleek, fancy, spotless cars that are always the right temperature, and always smell good. I had a long, dark coat over my shoulders. It was freezing outside, so Jon had grabbed it for me before we took off. It was a considerate guy I was murdering, wasn't it?

My feet brushed against something. I looked down, and saw the familiar red and white book cover. I tried not to cry at the irony.

"You're a Terry Pratchett fan?" I asked, picking up the copy of 'The Hogfather'.

"Oh, yeah." said Jon, with a grin. "Forgot I'd left that there. Yeah, I'm a huge fan!"

"Favorite series?"

"Oh, the Watch, of course!"

I smiled at his teenage-like enthusiasm. "Is there any other?"

_Sam Vimes. If only he'd come here too. The Beast might be an even match for Teatime._

It occured to me that engaging this fellow in conversation wasn't a smart move. I was going to feel bad enough already when Jonathan knifed him.

"Is this the place, Jerilyn?"

I looked around at the familiar abandoned street and alleyway.

"So soon?" I said, barely audible.

"Yeah. I'm good, aren't I?"

"As good as Carrot." _And just as clueless. You can't imagine that someone would try to trick you, can you? So there really _were_ people like that._

We got out of the car. I closed my door behind me, but Jon left his open. I'd left the book in the vehicle. It didn't seem a good idea, bringing it, thus letting Teatime know exactly how much I knew about him.

Jon put his hand in his pocket, and said, "I hate to say this, Jerry, but it looks like they aren't here."

_Don't call me Jerry. Sean calls me Jerry- _"I see them." I said, pointing. There was a flicker of movement in the alley ahead of us.

"So, your parents are hanging out in a creepy alley, on an abandoned street, waiting for you to make your way back to them on your own, instead of going to the police."

I stared at him.

"You're very lucky to have such radically minded guardians." he said, smiling. "At least your upbringing won't be boring!"

I tried not to gape. This man _was_ Carrot.

He gestured for me to go first. "Lead on, MacDuff."

I did.

If this guy really had been the Captain, what would Vetinari've done to me? I'd read that Vet' would give a cop-killer just one chance to see if they could walk on air.

I walked on.

What would Vimes do? He wouldn't kill me, but he'd make me feel so bad I'd wish I _was_ dead.

Kept walking.

I saw Sean in my mind's eye. He was staring at me in horror.

"You're just as bad as he is." he said, numbly.

I stopped.

"You _idiot._" I said.

"Pardon?" said Jon.

I spun around to face him.

"It's your sister, you moron!" I snapped. "What are you, retarded?! I said they didn't have cells, and _you believed me?! _Your sister wants you dead, and-"

He raised a hand to stop me, and sighed.

"And you were doing so well." he said, and took his hand out of his pocket. It held a gun. "No, I'm not an idiot."

There was a pause.

"Let me get this straight." I said. "You came down to face an Assassin and his accomplice, _alone_, and you think you're a genius?"

His eyes widened, and he reexamined every shadow.

"Assassin?" he said. "My informants told me my sis wanted to kill me personally!"

"So you think she'll lie about loving you, but not about-"

But he was already running back to his car as fast as his legs would carry him.

"HIRE A DAMN BODYGUARD!" I yelled after him.

"Lost your ride, sweetie?" said a voice behind me. It wasn't Teatime's.

I spun around. One, two, three bums! Each between the ages of twenty and forty. And _there_ was the sound of Jon's car as he drove away.

"Oh, that's alright." said Bum #2. "We can give you one instead!"

"_One_?" said Bum #3. "What do you mean, _one?_"

They were surpisingly more well-spoken than you'd expect from bums in this situation. No slurred words, no excessive 'you know what I mean?'s, and none of them had said 'sweetheart', though Bum #1 had come close.

I felt my heart pounding in my chest. Teatime had a reason to keep me alive, but these fellows didn't. For them, I was use and discard.

"I feel it only fair to warn you that I've got a trained Assassin watching over me." I said, in a casual voice. Or that was the plan. What actually came out was a slightly squeaky, "I got Assassin." which made me blush. Where had the nonchalance with which I'd stared into the mismatched eyes of Jonathan Teatime fled to?

The Bums laughed.

"Hey, she's funny!" said Bum #1, as they walked, purposefully, towards me.

"A regular comedian." agreed Bum #2.

"Yeah, we all love a good laugh." said Bum #3.

"Then I've got someone you just _have_ to meet." I said.

Bum #3 fell to his knees, clutching the back of his neck, which was spurting blood. No one was behind him.

"Kev'!" said Bum #2, running to him. Bum #1 grabbed me roughly by the arm.

"_What did you do?!_" he shouted in my face. He heard a gargling scream, and turned around. Bum #2 was bleeding copiously from the front of his throat.

Bum #3 spun in circles, trying to find the culprit. He screamed:"_What the fu-_"

He stopped, because the edge of a knife was pressed against his lips.

"Such language." said Teatime.

He delt the last man a savage kick that made him double-over, then stabbed the man through the neck so that the point of the knife poked out of the other side. He withdrew it, and the bum collapsed on the grimy street, gurgling the last moments of his life away. Teatime used the edge of the man's coat to wipe the muck off his blade, and then the weapon disappeared somewhere about his person. So it looked like he wasn't about to use it on me for letting his prey go. Or maybe he had a different punishment in mind altogether.

"So," I said, looking at the massacre. "thanks-"

The pavement disappeared from underneath me. I was traveling through the air at an alarming rate. My body was slammed against the side of a building, feet still not touching the ground, and my head bashed against the brickwork. The world spun.

"You were not running," a voice hissed in my ear. "you were not screaming, and you certainly were not fighting. You just stood there like a deer in traffic! Were you planning to let them do as they pleased?"

"I knew you were hanging around." I managed to say. He was holding me up by the collar of my jacket with one hand, and it was pressing into my windpipe.. I was pretty sure a bead of blood was running down my head from where it had connected with the building.

"So you were, in fact, counting on an _Assassin_ to come to your rescue?"

"Well, when you put it like that-"

He let go, and I fell in a heap on the sidewalk at his feet. He rubbed his hand against his coat as if he'd touched something disgusting, and started to walk away.

"So does this mean no violent punishment for saving Jon?" I asked, putting a hand to the back of my throbbing head.

He turned back, and smiled at me, Teatime-ishly.

"And _how_ much do you know about me, Ms. Hunter?"


End file.
